


d-d-d-dynamite

by TRASHCAKE



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bars and Pubs, But like barely there, Drinking, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Two whole vaguely spicy sentences, side pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRASHCAKE/pseuds/TRASHCAKE
Summary: Jaemin's memories have weekend shaped holes and Jeno fits somewhere within the gaps.





	d-d-d-dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> I was stressing about the rating but the enrara hag chat told me it sounds like a T so a T it is. 
> 
> Dedicated to Ross and Meg, without whom I would have never shipped this pairing. Ily guys xoxo
> 
> Title from Lorde's Homemade Dynamite

Jaemin doesn’t know when he met Jeno, just knows that he has. He can’t remember their first meeting, something tinged with vodka and shrouded in lingering regret. Jaemin goes out, gets drunk, and wakes up with a new friend on Facebook and a hickey on his neck. 

To this day, he’s still not sure if Jeno was the one who caused it. 

There are gaps in Jaemin’s memories, weekend shaped holes where thoughts should have been. He’s young and dumb, self-aware of both of those facts and unashamedly taking advantage of it. 

He social smokes and social climbs his way through the clubs in the city, passes out in a park somewhere with his wallet and keys still in hand, vomit on his shirt. Sometimes his friends are with him, sometimes he’s cuddled up to a stranger on the dewy grass. 

Jaemin, for the most part, is a drunken fool, but he’s relieved to discover that he’s not the only one. 

He meets Jeno for the second time in the alleyway behind some club, seated on the curb with his friends. They pass a flask around between them, something small and silver, hidden in one of the girl’s purses. It’s early enough in the night that Jaemin still has his wits about him, only stumbles a little bit as he joins them on the concrete. 

Jeno’s a friend of a friend of a friend. An intersection between two social circles, someone who hangs out with this dude Donghyuck has known since they were kids. The world is small and the party scene smaller, Jaemin has to wonder how it took so long before their inevitable meeting. 

The girls in Jeno’s friend group accept the girls in his with immediate ease, a particularly cute one fawning over the glitter on Yerim’s eyelids and the shape of her acrylic nails. 

“She’s taken,” Jeno whispers, passes her flask along to him. “And too good for you.” 

“That’s a shame,” Jaemin sighs, takes a swig. “But you don’t know anything about me.” 

“I know enough.” 

It’s cryptic, an insult, but said with such fondness that it has Jaemin reeling. As far as he’s aware, they’ve met once, and briefly. No contact made apart from the occasional status like on social media. Jeno talks like he knows him, and for once, Jaemin finds himself cursing his habit of getting blackout drunk.

“I suppose I’ve got a bit of a reputation,” Jaemin brushes it off with a laugh. He’s vaguely known, here and there, someone who knows everyone and everyone’s business. 

Jeno snorts. “You sure do,” he looks like he wants to recline against the filthy wall of the alleyway, but thinks better of it just in time. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

Jaemin wants him to elaborate, to fill in spaces of his memory lost to intoxication and time. 

But Yerim and her new pretty, pretty, off limits friend, decide it’s time for tequila and dance floors, and memories are once again forgotten in the haze of youth. 

\------

Jaemin ends up with a pretty girl in his lap. It’s not an unusual occurrence; someone pretty sat on his thighs with their mouths on his neck. But Mina, the untouchable, has nothing but innocent intentions when she seats herself firmly within Jaemin’s hold. 

Mark, her boyfriend, the dude Donghyuck grew up with. He finds her drunken antics hilarious, gently pries her off Jaemin, apologises for the drink she spilt, informs Jaemin that sometimes, she’s just like this. 

“You’re not jealous?” Jaemin has to ask. Mina cuddles up to him, calls Jaemin her new best friend. He keeps his hands where everyone else can see them, trying not to start drama so early in the evening. 

“A little,” Mark admits. Mina coos, reaches over, presses a sweet kiss to his lips to placate him. “But I trust you.” 

He shouldn’t. Any other night, any other situation, Jaemin’s hands would be wandering. But Donghyuck is watching, Jeno is watching. Mark’s friends that he’s yet to be introduced to are all observing him closely. He’s not drunk enough to ruin a relationship, and Mina needs to leave his personal space before he’s more vodka than human. 

“C’mon now,” Jaemin pats her hair, gently nudges her shoulder. “Back to Mark, you big baby.” 

“You’re my best friend now,” she reiterates, poking Jaemin in the nose. “Add me on Facebook, okay?” 

It’s a test and he’s passed. Jaemin gets handed phones, adds profiles to his growing list of drunken friendships. He may never see them again, delete their single night of memories in a few years time, but they’re here now and that’s what matters. 

They’ve got a theme going; _In a Relationship, In a Relationship, In a Relationship_. Mark and Mina. Yukhei and Yuqi. Johnny and some dude named Kun, absent from the festivities but still discussed fondly.  
Donghyuck has his hot, older boyfriend, his first real foray into the world of serious, adult relationships. Jaehyun will join them later, after his shift, once Renjun’s hands slide that little bit higher on Jeno’s thigh and Yerim gains the courage to sext that cute girl she’s been messaging on Tinder. 

Everyone has someone and Jaemin wishes, wants, yearns. 

He hopes he can fall in love, someday. 

Even just for a night. 

\------

Jungwoo is a friend of a friend, someone from Yukhei’s statistics class, out with his friends when they run into each other at their third bar of the night. The girls have finished dancing up a storm, so they relocate to somewhere with a better atmosphere, stumbling through the club district in search of something suitable. 

They find a place with tables, live music, fake vines and astroturf decorating the smoker’s area, scorch marks burnt into the plastic grass. Yukhei sees people he knows, notices they have space at their table and takes two groups to merge with a third. 

Jungwoo is a friend of a friend, he’s cute and he’s single. Best of all, he’s _interested_ , makes eyes at Jaemin from across the table. Jaehyun has Donghyuck on his lap, Renjun whispers filth into Jeno’s ear and Jaemin thinks _fuck it_ , it’s his turn. Love for just a night. 

He buys Jaemin a drink, sways with him off beat to the sounds of the live band. Hands on his waist, playing with the collar of his shirt. Jungwoo licks into Jaemin’s mouth on the dance floor, holds his hand for the rest of the night. 

The night is drunk and rowdy, but not up to Jaemin’s usual standards. He’ll call it a quiet one, when prompted, hangover imminent but memories intact. 

Nothing really happens. 

Jungwoo leaves early with his friends, kissing Jaemin hard on the mouth, telling him that he’s had fun. Jeno’s arm remains slung around Renjun’s shoulders while it unfolds, pretty mouth twisted into a frown. 

How anyone can be unhappy while gifted with Renjun’s undivided attention is a mystery, but Jeno is full of intriguing secrets that Jaemin wishes he were privy to. 

The others filter out, stumbling their way towards taxis and Ubers. Jaemin receives more kisses, ones on the cheek, mostly from the girls but from Yukhei too. He’s drunk and giggling, an exaggerated kiss to the same spot Yuqi left hers. 

“You’re popular,” Jeno drawls, watching Renjun leave with Donghyuck and Jaehyun. They’re the only ones left, two people at opposite ends of a table too big for them. 

“And you’re something else,” Jaemin gestures towards Renjun, who glances one last time over his shoulder, eyes on Jeno. “He’s into you.” 

“He was,” Jeno shrugs, waves goodbye when he spots Renjun looking. “But he’s not anymore.” 

Jaemin doubts it. Renjun doesn’t show interest freely, nor often. He’s not the one who initiates contact, lets those interested start the chase that he alone can finish. Jeno’s special, and as he makes his way towards the bar for more drinks, Jaemin makes sure to send Renjun a message. 

_he’s cute, but he spent the whole night talking about you_ comes his reply. _didn’t know you knew each other that well._

Jaemin wasn’t aware of that, either. 

A shot glass, plus his usual vodka, placed on the table in front of him. Jaemin nods in thanks, takes a whiff of the shot. 

“Is this an ABC?” he asks, nose crinkling in distaste. He’s done enough of them that the smell is burnt into his memory, too many drunken nights spent throwing them back up. 

“Sure is,” Jeno lifts his glass to his mouth, motions for Jaemin to do the same. “I’m gonna assume that’s okay?” 

“Why not,” Jaemin toasts to the night he’s going to forget, throws the shot back with ease. “ _God_ , these taste awful.” 

“Better than Sambucca,” Jeno takes the combination of Absinthe, Bacardi 151, and Chartreuse with ease. 

He’s as well versed as Jaemin, someone who drinks alcohol like water. Jeno really doesn’t seem like the type, but Jaemin has come to realise that he doesn’t really _know_ Jeno, at least, not well as well as he himself is known. 

“I don’t remember how we met,” Jaemin admits. 

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “I figured,” he says, “you said you’d message me the next day if you remembered, and you didn’t.”

“Wanna fill in the blanks for me?” Jaemin takes a sip of his vodka. It’s a double. Between the extra shot and the ABC, it’s clear that Jeno wants him drunk and as soon as possible. 

“You chased me down on the street,” he recalls fondly. “I was heading home but you stopped me before I could leave.” 

“That sounds like drunk me,” Jaemin shrugs. He’s personable, makes friends when there’s that drink in his veins. “Is that all it took?” 

“You called me pretty,” Jeno flushes at the memory. “Asked if I was into dudes, because I’m too pretty not to be.” 

“Again, that’s a very Drunk Jaemin thing to say.” 

“You’re not apologising.” 

“Should I be?” He raises an eyebrow in challenge, knocks back the rest of his drink. “I will, if it made you uncomfortable.” 

“I spent the rest of the night with you, drinking and finishing that pack of menthols you bought.”

Jaemin notices the interest in Jeno’s eyes, clear even under the dim bar lights and the alcohol haze. He sits close, looks at Jaemin from under his lashes, yet doesn’t make a move. Jeno is _fascinating_ , an enigma that Jaemin wants to unravel.

“If it made me uncomfortable, I would have left.” 

“Oh God,” Jaemin moans into his empty glass. “I got sentimental, didn’t I?” 

He has that habit. Deep and meaningful conversations with strangers, offloading his issues on one time therapists. 

“It was cute,” Jeno says simply. Jaemin doesn’t know how to respond. 

Two more drinks and Jeno declares them done, tripping over his feet as he clings to Jaemin’s arm. 

“Message me this time,” he says, before Jaemin puts him in a taxi home. 

Jaemin responds with a promise he’s not sure he can keep.

\------

Jeno messages first. 

A little bubble on his phone screen, Jeno’s Facebook icon displayed with a little red three. 

_i got home safely_

_i hope u did too_

_nap timeeeee_

Jaemin wishes him sweet dreams, his drunken fingers adding a pink, sparkling heart along with his message. He’ll regret it in the morning, but the Jaemin in his bed, buried beneath a pile of blankets, thinks it’s a wonderful idea. 

It opens a floodgate. 

Jeno messages him daily, Jaemin and his friends are added to a group chat made by the others. Mina comments on every single one of his profile pictures, various incarnations of _my best friend is so handsome!_

Yerim laughs, asks if Jaemin’s replacing her. 

He accepts a friend request from Jungwoo, resulting in kissy faces and jeering in the chat. Jeno messages him privately, asks him if there’s something there, if Jaemin plans on following up on their time at the bar. 

There’s not and he doesn’t, a message from Jungwoo confirming that he feels the same. He’s just a friend now, one he’s made out with. Considering that he’s kissed his entire friend group at least once, he’s not exactly an outlier. 

He tells Jeno as such, who informs the group chat of the conditions of Jaemin’s friendship. Those with the privilege of having locked lips with him bemoan the revelation, claiming alcohol and bad decisions. Mina asks Mark if she’s allowed to join the ranks, but is met with a _preferrably not, babe_. 

Yuqi, on the other hand, gives Yukhei the full go ahead. 

Which means the next time they meet up, not a week later at some house party, Jaemin finds himself on Yukhei’s lap, a whispered _is this okay?_ before he’s being kissed. Yuqi and Mina holler, spurring them on. Yukhei’s a little more handsy than Jaemin expects, so he pulls away, panting. 

In another situation, in another life, Jaemin would have kept going. But there are limits, and these people are his _friends_ now. And friends don’t dry hump each other’s boyfriends on the couch at a house party. 

“That looked like fun,” Jeno says when they meet in the kitchen. He pours himself a drink, takes Jaemin’s plastic cup and does the same for him. The concoction is half vodka, half Coke and it burns when Jaemin takes a sip. 

“What, Yukhei?” 

“Yeah,” Jeno sips at his own drink, barely holds back his grimace. “You two are similar, with the whole kissing your friends thing.” 

“So you’ve…” Jaemin trails off, gestures. “You know.” 

Jeno shrugs, downs more of his drink. “Yeah,” he says, “it was uneventful though.” 

Jaemin snorts in disbelief. Kissing Yukhei is an experience, and if Yuqi is down for it, he’ll do it again sometime. 

“I’m serious,” Jeno elaborates. “It was high school. He’d kissed Mark like, two minutes before me,” his nose wrinkles at the memory, lips curling. “Very messy.” 

“Mina was cool with it?” 

“This was in Mark’s awkward pining, teenage angst, pre-Mina era.” 

Jaemin tries to imagine teenage Mark; baby fat on his cheeks, a bit of acne, maybe braces. Such a stark comparison to the handsome guy that Jaemin knows now. It seems like a stretch, but sometimes Mark holds himself with the air of someone who doesn’t know he’s gorgeous, so maybe Jaemin’s alcohol muddled mind is onto something. 

“Hey,” Jeno says suddenly, placing his cup on the counter. “Dance with me?” 

The music is loud but no one is dancing. There’s no dance floor, either. It’s just not that kind of party but Jeno is insistent, looking at Jaemin like he does sometimes, from under his lashes and filled with intent. 

Hips pulled close, no one around, Jeno dances with and against him. People filter in and out of the kitchen, paying them no mind, chalking their antics up to be drunken ones. But Jaemin, all things considering, is tipsy at best, sober at worst, his half-and-half forgotten on the counter. 

“You fascinate me,” Jeno murmurs, wrapping his arms around Jaemin’s neck. 

Jaemin doesn’t quite know how to respond. 

\------

Booty calls are something familiar to Jaemin. He sends them from time to time, receives them more frequently than most people are aware of. 

Renjun, on occasion, not that he’d tell anyone. Jungwoo, most recently, looking to blow off some pre-exam steam. 

Jeno’s the last person, yet also the first, that Jaemin ever expected to send the faithful _you up?_ message at three o’clock in the morning. 

_not like that_ , he follows it up with. 

Jaemin hates the way that he’s disappointed. 

It turns out that Jeno has bombed an exam, is looking for someone to drink and forget with. The lateness of the hour is because of his well-timed depression nap, lasting from the moment he got home until the moment he sent the text.

“Why me?” Jaemin asks. They’re sat on the ground in a park somewhere near Jeno’s house, outside so they don’t disturb Jeno’s housemates. Drinking outside like this has an air of carefree rebellion to it, and it helps lift the mood over Jeno’s failed exam. 

“Payback,” Jeno says simply, wraps his lips around the neck of a cider bottle. Jaemin swallows thickly. “You dragged me to drink in a park in the middle of the night, so I’m returning the favour.” 

“Any other reason?” 

Jeno glances at him, takes another sip. “The fact that you’re hot also helps.” 

“Is that why you came with me the first time?” Jaemin laughs, nudges Jeno with his elbow. 

“I’ve told you, Jaemin,” Jeno replies with a serious intensity that feels so out of place. “You fascinate me.” 

Jaemin sighs, collapses back onto the grass beneath him. “You may have mentioned that,” he says. 

There really isn’t much to be fascinated by. Jaemin studies, Jaemin parties. He watches pirated episodes of Game of Thrones during his downtime. He’s fun, he’s personable, but he’s not _interesting_. 

He doesn’t know what he’s done to catch Jeno’s attention. 

“I can hear your self-deprecating inner monologue from here,” Jeno snickers, “and I need you to stop that.” 

“Why,” Jaemin sits up, moves closer to Jeno. “Am I too pretty to be this jaded?” 

“No,” Jeno snorts into his cider. “You’re crashing my pity party. Tonight’s about _my_ failures, not yours.” 

“Would you feel better if I kissed you?” 

Jaemin doesn’t know where it comes from, but he can’t take the words back, no matter how hard he tries. So he avoids Jeno’s eyes, focuses his attention on his bottle of cider and the way the condensation rolls down the neck and onto his fingers. 

“You told me something, the first night we met.” 

“I still don’t remember that, and I’m sorry.” 

“You said I was too pretty,” Jeno places his hand over Jaemin’s on the grass, the action nonchalant yet loaded. “That you wanted to kiss me, but you were afraid you’d ruin me.” 

“I don’t think like that anymore.” 

Jeno knows Jaemin, almost too well by this point. What could sound like an insult, isn’t and Jeno is well aware of it. Jaemin could elaborate, use all the adjectives in his vocabulary to describe him, tell Jeno that he’s so many things; strong, capable, _wonderful_. So many words that something like _pretty_ can’t even cover.

But he doesn’t. 

Jeno understands anyway. 

They don’t kiss that night, nor the nights that follow after it. Jeno’s not just someone he meets up and makes out with on occasion, and Jaemin is terrified of the implications.

\------

He rejects parties for Jeno, who has decided that his forays into a drunken stupor are now monthly occurrences and not weekly. Still more than most people, but less than he’s used to. Jeno decides it’s time he starts studying, for real this time, and drags Jaemin into academic hell with him. 

His grades thank him for it, his assignments turned in on time and his last-minute cramming becoming casual revision. 

Saturday nights fill his memories, time spent on Jeno’s bed as he reads over his business management notes for the week, lo-fi hip hop beats filling the space as background noise. Jeno still struggles with Biochem, the subject he bombed during the mid-semester exams, but he’s doing better, as well as he can. 

And Jaemin’s there to hold his hand when things get tough, a hug in return when Jaemin himself is struggling. Their friendship, now growing, is strong and beautiful. 

This time, when Yerim asks if she’s been replaced, Jaemin can’t quite answer her without hurting her feelings. 

“You’ll always be number one in my heart,” he says, “but Jeno…”

He trails off, unable to find the words. 

“I understand,” she replies softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Jeno we’re talking about, after all.” 

\------

Jaemin still kisses boys, girls, those who fall elsewhere on the gender spectrum. He answers texts asking if he’s awake, if he’d like to come over. He accepts Facebook requests from people he’s never met, who only know him by reputation. 

But when he’s done, when he can’t face the loveless loneliness any longer, he goes to Jeno. 

It feels wrong.

He’ll kiss a girl and then dance with Jeno, sliding his hands under his shirt to feel the way his heart beats. Jaemin can’t break his habits but he’s learning new ones to replace them, taking strangers and using Jeno instead. 

He has to wonder if it hurts. 

Jeno doesn’t mention anything, simply raises an eyebrow when Jaemin starts to politely reject advances, leaving messages unseen and unanswered in his phone. All in exchange for time spent together, doing everything and nothing all at once. 

They don’t kiss, they don’t fuck, but being with him means more to Jaemin than a loveless kiss or hurried one-night stand ever could. Jeno is something else, something described with words Jaemin is too afraid to think, let alone say. 

His reputation fades. 

All that’s left is Jeno.

\------

It’s a date. 

Jaemin knows, Jeno knows. Their friends send their well wishes in the group chat, admiring their proactiveness. 

Jeno has always wanted to see the sunrise over their city and so Jaemin offers to take him on an early morning hike, just the two of them, up the local mountain on a Saturday morning. 

He sleeps over, shares Jaemin’s bed. Holds his hand as they watch a movie, looks at him the way he always does, like he’s in love with him. Jaemin’s certain the softness of his eyes matches Jeno’s own as he stares down at their entwined fingers. 

The climb is effortless, made easy by the popularity of the trail and the installation of stairs along the path. They’re not the only hikers in the car park so early in the morning, everyone preparing themselves for the kind of sunrise that dreams are made of. 

Jeno takes Jaemin’s hand halfway up the mountain and doesn’t let go, allows his arm to swing behind him as Jaemin follows his steps towards the peak. 

It’s still dark when they reach the top, but the city view is as beautiful as what’s to come. Jaemin leans against the railing in a secluded corner of the observation deck, away from the crowd starting to gather on the mountain top. 

Jeno slides up behind him, hands on his hips, back pressed to chest. Jaemin’s heartbeat doubles; _this is it_.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs against Jaemin’s neck. “I’d kiss you, but I’m afraid I’d ruin you.” 

“That’s my line,” Jaemin turns around in his hold, wraps his arms around Jeno’s neck. “But I think you already have.” 

“What’s that now?” his smile is soft, cheeky around the edges. Jaemin feels emotions he’s too scared to name. 

“You’ve ruined me,” he clarifies, “for anyone that isn’t you.” 

“I hope so,” Jeno says, before kissing him. 

It’s soft, slow. Hands on Jaemin’s back and drifting along his sides, his hips. Jeno kisses him, secluded in their corner, until the first light peeks out over the horizon. 

They miss the sunrise, but it’s okay. 

They have plenty of time together to watch another sunrise.

And much, much more.

\------

Jaemin still goes out drinking, pushes someone into the nearest bathroom stall, kisses them until they’re breathless and emerges later, dishevelled and covered in hickies. He still gets calls, thinly veiled excuses of _hanging out_ , implications of something much more. 

But his marks aren’t left by casual acquaintances, his calls don’t come from people he’s only met once or twice. 

Now, Jaemin only has Jeno, his boyfriend, his everything. 

He’s seen a lot of sunrises with him, and kissed his way through more. 

Jaemin has Jeno for the foreseeable future, his and his only, until Jeno gets sick of him.

Only, he hopes he doesn’t.

Because Jaemin finally has a name for his emotions. And he hopes, one day soon, that he can voice them into reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/pharmarkcy)


End file.
